


It was Perfect

by Karis_Artemisia_Judith



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karis_Artemisia_Judith/pseuds/Karis_Artemisia_Judith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for Red, inspired by her modern AU Kristanna <3 <br/>Set in between 'Date Material' and 'Courage to the Sticking Place'.</p><p>She could feel the metal of his ring, warm from his skin. That morning it had been a cool, empty circle (which she had lost—there had been a frantic hour of searching instead of the leisurely brunch she’d planned with her sister. Elsa hadn’t seemed at all surprised, and she’d been the one to find the ring, tucked into one of Anna’s wedding shoes. She’d put it there so that she would remember where it was, and then forgotten). Now it was a warm reminder of promises, and a future full of them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redonthefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonthefly/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Date Material](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985571) by [redonthefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonthefly/pseuds/redonthefly). 
  * Inspired by [Courage to the Sticking Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985544) by [redonthefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonthefly/pseuds/redonthefly). 



Anna burst through the door as soon as it was open and hurtled toward the bed. “Last one in is a rotten egg!” she crowed, flinging herself into the pile of soft pillows. She sighed happily and snuggled deeper, her skirt a froth of lace and tulle around her knees, and began kicking her feet in an attempt to get rid of the beautiful but  _very_  uncomfortable green silk heels.

Kristoff chuckled at her enthusiasm, but he didn’t rush after her, despite how appealing the bed looked (especially now that it had Anna in it…). Instead he brought in their luggage (his battered leather duffel, the polka dotted magenta suitcase that Anna had abandoned on the porch, and the cooler of sandwiches and leftover cake that Bulda had insisted they would want later) and sat down to unlace his shoes, glancing around the room. It wasn’t really his idea of a cabin—it was much too plush and new and  _clean_  to be his idea of a cabin—but there was window that promised to have a view of the lake and the mountains when it was light out, and there was an enormous bed, and all the privacy and two people could wish for, and it was all theirs for a week.

He caught Anna’s waving legs gently and pulled her shoes off for her. She groaned gratefully into the bedspread, wiggling her feet. “ _Thank_  you. Those heels were killing me.”

"Why did you wear them if they were so uncomfortable?" His weight hitting the bed made Anna’s petite body bounce, and she rolled over, giggling.

"Because they’re  _pretty_. And so that you wouldn’t have to bend over so far to kiss me.” She snuggled up to his side, nestling her head on his shoulder. “ _And_  so that you would have to keep your arm around me all night to keep me from falling.”

"You know I don’t need any encouragement to do that." He shifted to wrap his arm around her, his hand resting on her waist. The bed was just as comfortable as it had looked, and Anna was cuddled up warm against him, and Kristoff found himself wondering how much trouble he’d be in if he fell asleep. He  _wanted_  to stay awake—weeks of working long hours so that he could afford to take a week off meant that he’d barely seen Anna, at least not while she was awake. He’d seen her sleeping curled up on the couch, half-finished projects tumbling from her limp fingers, but this was the first time in almost a month that they’d been alone together. And now they were married.

Anna’s thoughts were on almost the same path as she covered his fingers with hers. She could feel the metal of his ring, warm from his skin. That morning it had been a cool, empty circle (which she had lost—there had been a frantic hour of searching instead of the leisurely brunch she’d planned with her sister. Elsa hadn’t seemed at all surprised, and she’d been the one to find the ring, tucked into one of Anna’s wedding shoes. She’d put it there so that she would remember where it was, and then forgotten). Now it was a warm reminder of promises, and a future full of them together.

"We’re married," she said with wonder. She caught hold of his other hand, curling hers around it, holding on to him. "We’re  _married_. Kris, we’re married!”

"Yep." He nuzzled his cheek against her hair. Anna giggled helplessly into his shoulder, giddily kicking her feet as she laughed, her whole body feeling as light as a handful of bubbles, fizzing and bursting from happiness. She rolled closer to her husband—her  _husband_ , he was her _husband_ , they were  _married_ —pressing against him, her face muffled in his shirt. After a minute or two she calmed down and just lay against him, breathing him in. She was so happy. And she was so tired, her scalp smarting from the hairpins that had been too tight and her instep aching from the high heels, but still so, so happy.

"We’re married," she mumbled sleepily, and he lifted a hand to stroke her hair.

"Yeah. Did you…have a good time?" he asked. "Did you…did you like it?"

She turned her head to blink at him. “Kristoff, it was our  _wedding_. Of course I liked it! Why would you even ask that?”

"I’m just…I’m sorry it couldn’t be a big, fancy thing," he muttered, looking down at their hands. He smoothed his thumb over the back of her knuckles gently. "With…I don’t know, more people, and music, and dancing, and….fancy ice sculptures, or something. It wasn’t like the weddings in those magazines."

"Kris," Anna huffed with annoyance, leaning up on her elbow so that she was looking down at him. Her soft, upswept curls were starting to come unpinned and tumbled messily over one shoulder. "Don’t even think like that," she said. "I didn’t want a magazine wedding. I wanted  _our_ wedding. And it was perfect.”

Perfect. The ceremony in the little chapel had been perfect, with the pews full of their friends and Kristoff’s family. Elsa holding her hand to walk her down the aisle and squeezing comfortingly when she’d started to shake with excitement (and holding her steady, so that she didn’t trip and die in her extra tall heels). Kristoff, standing at the altar and looking at her with his mouth open, as if he’d never seen her before, as if he never wanted to look away.

She’d been sad, when they were planning, that she couldn’t invite more people (she wanted to invite  _everyone_ ) but then she tried to imagine Kristoff in front of a huge crowd of people. He would have hated it—he’d had a hard enough time with the forty or so close friends and family that fit into the chapel. During his vows he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks red, and he kept tugging at his collar until Anna finally handed Elsa her bouquet (a cluster crocuses from Bulda’s garden, with a flutter of green ribbon trailing from them) and stepped forward to unknot Kristoff’s tie, leaving it dangling around his neck while she undid the top button of his shirt. She’d taken his hand and he’d managed to finish without stammering, staring into her face, his voice very quiet. When it was her turn she was trying so hard not to cry that she ended up laughing and he’d interrupted her giggling to kiss her, pre-empting the minister’s “You may…”

It  _had_  been perfect.

And the reception at been perfect, even though it was just cake and ice cream. Elsa had gotten permission for them to take over Oaken’s Ice Cream Emporium, and they’d moved out most of the tables and squeezed everyone in and Anna was so busy hugging people that for once it took her more than two minutes to eat her cake. There were people that she loved  _everywhere_ and it was wonderful, and noisy, and hot, and perfect, although after a while Kristoff had finally pulled her into a corner and tugged her into his arms and tucked his head down to rest his nose against her hair so that she was encompassed in a bubble of world that was just her and Kristoff, just the warmth of the two of them together.

Eventually the party spilled out onto the sidewalk and the parking lot because the shop was just too crowded, and Elsa surprised them by producing a box of sparklers. Someone who had had a little too much cake and ice cream (okay, it had been Anna) had started to sing ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’, and everyone had joined in, and Kristoff had reluctantly let Anna tug him into the circle of light under the street lamp to turn in slow, swaying circles, the first dance that they hadn’t planned to have.

It had been  _absolutely_  perfect.

She’d stood in the bed of Kristoff’s truck to throw her bouquet (she should probably have warned people that she was doing it—it smacked Elsa’s girlfriend Jane in the face). And  _then_  one of Kristoff’s many brothers, or uncles, but definitely a resonant baritone from that side of the family had started crooning ‘Let’s Get it On’ and Anna barely had time to hug Elsa before her new husband was hustling her into the truck and peeling out of the parking lot.

They had to go back, because they’d forgotten the luggage.

And it had been  _perfect_.

So she hadn’t gotten married in the ballgown she’d always dreamed of, but that was because it had never occurred to her to dream of a knee-length dress until Jane had suggested it. She hadn’t bought a designer dress from a boutique, but she was pretty sure that nothing could beat the experience of doing a victory dance with her sister when she found the perfect lace dress on a clearance rack in a department store.  _Nothing_  could beat the memory of Elsa being so excited and happy that she’d started dancing in public, twirling around with Anna so that they could watch the full skirt swirl. Sometimes you didn’t know that you’d been dreaming of something until you were exploding from happiness because it was coming true.

Kristoff was still looking anxiously up into her face and she smiled down at him. He was perfect too, every grumpy, smelly part of him, an imperfect perfection that she had never known she wanted until she stumbled into it.

"Kris," she said, resting her hand against his cheek. "I got  _married_  to  _you._ It was the wedding of my dreams.”

He turned his head to kiss her fingers, one of them circled by a simple, narrow band of rose gold (he’d apologized that it was so plain, that it didn’t have a diamond, that it wasn’t something else, and Anna told him to shut up and kiss her, because it was yet another perfect thing), and he ran his hands up her back to cup her face and draw her down so that he could kiss her lips.

Anna laid her head back down on his chest, nestling against him, and Kristoff stroked her hair, her back, remembering how stunning she had looked when she stepped through the door of the chapel, sunlight spilling in all around her. How amazing she had looked standing in front of him, holding his hands while she promised to be his forever. How she had looked laughing, a smear of chocolate icing on her cheek, and crying, when his mother had told her that she was the best gift their family had gotten since they adopted him all those years ago. How the glow of the sparklers had lit up her face, how she’d covered her mouth with her hands after the accident with the bouquet, how she’d smiled at him during the whole drive out of the city as if she never wanted to stop.

He wished he had the means to give her everything. Anything. But if the little he could give her made her happy, he would keep giving it until he died, because what she gave him was perfect.

There was a soft snore, and Kristoff chuckled. His perfect true love had fallen asleep on him. He couldn’t really blame her, she’d been rushing around like a mad woman for weeks, ever since she’d decided that two months was the longest engagement she could stand, and it had been a long day. He should probably wake her up, though, at least long enough to get her changed out of her pretty dress.

"Anna," he mumbled.

"Mm."

"You should…" he yawned. "You should wake up. We should get changed."

"Mmnope." Anna snuggled closer. "Comfy."

Kristoff started to say something, but it was swallowed up in a yawn. He tucked his wife’s head under his chin and sighed. He’d just let her sleep for a little bit, and then try again…

In the morning they woke up, still in their clothes, creased and disheveled and looking ridiculous.

And it was perfect. 


End file.
